Why Hayden's Heart...

Two years ago or I guess more already I came across a Facebook page called Prayer Page for Baby Hayden. It showed up in my news feed often because friends of mine had already liked the page. I skimmed past it probably a dozen times or more before ever actually clicking on it to see what exactly it was about. I rarely ever "liked" pages but this one was different. The profile picture was the sweetest orange haired baby I had ever seen. Knowing it was a prayer page I was hesitant to find out more because I knew the story behind that beautiful babe was probably a heart breaking one. But he was oh so beautiful and even in a picture his eyes were magnetic. His smile... pure joy. And so I had to know why was this precious little one in need of prayers.

This was June 2012. I clicked the link. Read the most current post and then read backwards to the very beginning.  The journey of Hayden Jeter Dorsett and his family. Born with Hypoblastic Left Heart Syndrome. A rare congenital heart defect where the left ventricle of the heart is  severely underdeveloped. This sweet baby living with only half a heart.

"Prayer Page for Baby Hayden" was started before Hayden was here. Diagnosed with this rare condition while still safe in his mama's belly... Ady, Hayden's mother made this page for the only thing she knew would help other than modern medicine and a miracle... the power of prayer. Never asking for more than anything than prayer. And there were plenty of people praying for this babe. Hayden's page has over 20,000 followers.

I read all the posts. Hundreds of them. Happy ones. Sad ones. Hopeful posts. Disheartened posts. Always ever asking for one thing "Please pray for Hayden". And so I did. I found myself thinking about and praying for Hayden and his family often. We included Hayden's name in the nightly prayers that my oldest son said. Hayden quickly became a household name. I was so invested in his story. Felt in someway connected to his mother even though we had never met. Our lives were so similar. Me and her are about the same age. Living only minutes away from one another. Both had two little boys close in age. The only thing that separated us was that her baby had half a heart. That one thing made a world of difference. A difference that I could not begin to imagine. And so I did the only thing I could I kept Hayden in our thoughts and prayers and through that he made his way into our hearts.

I kept up with his page. Always looking for updates. Always hopeful. For days there was nothing. I prayed that meant there was nothing to report. Still nothing... and then "Hayden Jeter Dorsett 3/12/12 - 8/16/12". I read that and literally gasped. I stared at the screen with tears rolling down my cheeks. Weeping for a baby I never met. I felt a pain deep in my chest and couldn't even bear to think of what state his mother must be in. I know from tragedy with in my own family that there are somethings that change you forever. Change the dynamic of your family. The course of your life. Some things are so sad there are no words for them.

For days, weeks, I could not stop thinking about Hayden and his mom. Could not stop thinking about how similar our lives were and how different they would now forever be. I was plagued by the thought that there was nothing that made our circumstances so different but random misguided chance. I could have easily been her.

I racked my brain for some reasonable gesture, some sort of kindness or comfort that I could offer her grieving heart. But what? I knew there was nothing that I could ever do. But doing nothing wasn't an option. One day in the mall I came across a necklace in the shape of a heart with a tiny pearl just sitting in the middle. I bought it and decided that even though I could not make things better I could let this heartbroken mom know she wasn't alone. Let her know that her baby wouldn't be forgotten. Let her know that Hayden would always been in our heart. His life had touched ours and I know thousands of others.

It is said that no one is truly gone until the last person has spoken their name. If that is true Ady has no need to worry about her sweet Hayden being forgotten. Since Hayden's passing his family has set up a foundation in his name called "Hayden's Heart". It is a non profit 501c3 charity dedicated to keeping Hayden's memory alive. Raising CHD awareness. And helping other heart families with their medical and travel expenses.

I told my husband about the necklace and that I was going to stop by Ady's house to give it to her. He looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. "Go to her house?! Are you nuts? You don't know them! You can't just ring her bell and be like here's a necklace for you!" But that is kinda what I did. I felt like I needed to meet her. In person. Hear about her beautiful babe first hand. After all he had a significant impact on my life. In so many ways... she needed to know that.  Of course I had been reading their story for months and as much as I felt like I knew them she had no idea who I was. Nonetheless she opened her door. And invited me in. I don't know if it was the mom bond or what but I felt like we were instantly friends... and have been since.

I can not say enough good things about the Dorsett family. They have done so much good for so many others. Touched so many lives. Simply because Hayden lived. I know that more than anything Ady wishes Hayden was just like every other baby with a whole heart known only by his family and friends... and while if I could grant anyone just one wish it would for sure be just that... but Hayden, he wasn't like every other baby. Hayden was a angel among us with big big plans. Bigger than anyone could imagine and his mom. Well she isn't just any mom. She is simply amazing. I know she doesn't see herself as a strong person... rather just doing the only thing she can to get through this new life... but she is a hero to so many. Hayden being her number one fan. She and her husband have done so much good in his name I wouldn't even know where to begin... so check them out for yourself at haydensheart.org or on facebook at Hayden's Heart. Read Hayden's story and fall in love with the baby that continues to change the world at Prayer Page for Baby Hayden also on facebook.

If you would like to make a difference you can make a one time donation Hayden's Heart or keep up with them and participate in any of their fabulous events. In an effort to spread more CHD awareness they are on a mission to get featured on #theellenshow so if you feel so inclined send her an email and help them get there.

Maternity ward horror stories

For every "I had the most wonderful birthing experience" you will hear a "I had the delivery from hell" story. I found that when I was pregnant everyone wanted share with me their maternity ward horror story. Tales of endless labor. Fractured hips. Broken tail bones. Torn assholes. Hemorrhoids the size of grape fruits. Failed epidurals. Bitchy nurses. Careless doctors. Insensitive husbands. Blinding contractions. Shitting on the table. Cone head babies. Broken Vaginas.

With a baby rapidly growing inside my belly I was starting to panic. I like my asshole in tact. My unstretched lady parts. Which honestly I hadn't seen in months but still I wanted them to remain in the state in which I had known them my whole life. Shit on the table... I'd die. Convinced that these mama's must be exaggerating I had talked myself into the fact that I would be one of the lucky ones with amazing orgasmic birth story. Not so much... I was added to the list of wounded warriors. I now had my own maternity ward horror stories.

However I have enough common sense to not scare the crap out of every mama to be that I come across. I become the crypt keeper when asked about my experience. I don't spew out the gory details. One because it is not necessary. Two because I know that no matter what happens her story will not be my story and there is no reason for anyone to worry about the possibilities.

Shortly before my due date with my second baby I was given the option of having an elective c section because of a medical condition. Contrary to popular opinion I jumped on the chance to not push another human out of my vagina. 40 hours of Pitocin induced labor. Stiches up my ass. And nearly bleeding to death made my decision an easier one.

After choosing to have a c section I learned how frowned upon that is amongst members of the mommyhood. Emergency c sections... well those are okay because you have no choice. But ELECTING to bring a child into the world this way is just unacceptable. Friends, close ones at that aired their opinion on my decision in hopes of getting me to change my mind. And although having a c section is not ideal... lets face it... there is no good way to get a 9.5 pound human out of your body!

Most women that have had a c section will tell you how horrible it was. Worst experience of their life. And then there are the women like me that have had both vaginal deliver and a c section and I know with  fair amount of certainty the c section was far from the worst experience of my life. In fact it was not bad at all. Considering that it is major surgery that you are wide awake for it is not nearly as bad you would think. Or as it looks on you tube which strongly recommend you do not watch the night before.

Yes it is uncomfortable.   But so is labor. And labor has no clear end in sight. You could be in labor 2 hours or 2 days. Both of my c sections were over with in an hour. And my beautiful oversized babies were here. There heads not misshapen.

Everyone always talks about the shocking pain at the incision sight. And yes the day after the pain is shocking. Not as shocking as natural delivery. And after the first day every day after gets better and better. Plus I totally prefer stitches across my stomach than up my ass because you know what the ones that I had after Aidan were not so pleasant either.

Another common complaint is that during the c section you feel lots of pressure. Some say tugging/ pushing. For sure an odd feeling that you could live with out ever enduring. Quite honestly compared to a human tearing its way out of your body I'll take the intestinal massage any day of the week.

I hear women that have only had a c section say often that they feel they have been robbed of the birthing experience... to that I can only say the whole "natural birth" experience is OVER RATED! And it the end it does not matter what means brought your baby here safely.

I personally take offense when I hear moms putting down moms that have chosen to go with a c section. It is such a personal decision made with only health and safety at the forefront. I did not have a c section for convenience. But I was able to keep an open mind and make the best decision for me and my babies.

Whether you are a well-vetted member of the mommyhood with tons of experience under your belt  (which I think I qualify for with three kids) or a new comer try to remember the tie that binds is our shared loved for our little ones not our ideas about how they should be brought into the world. The next time you run into an expectant mom... even if she asks spare her the agonizing details of your maternity horror story there will be plenty of time to commiserate and relate after she has her own to tell.

Sweet September

This time last year I was pacing the floors of this house. Breathing through contractions that had started 2 days prior. Wondering when I should leave for the hospital. Cursing Dr. Douchebag for sending me home in the first place. Rubbing my belly that was stretched to the max. Saying silent prayers and talking to the baby I affectionately called September. Asking him to hold off. Stay put. Just for one more day. Anxious as I was to meet him I was twice as anxious about how he would make his way into this world. I knew that my doctor was not available until Monday. And according to him despite the fact that I was bleeding and contracting at 6:30 am on Friday morning if I just went home and stayed in bed and didn't lift a finger I would be fine until he had time to deliver my baby on Monday.

Just go home and stay in bed. Don't lift a finger. Yeah. No problem. Said a mother of two small boys... NEVER. I begged him not to send me home. Terrified that I would go into full blown labor on my own and not have enough time to get to the hospital or worse have a repeat or some similar situation as I had 7 years before with Aidan. A birth experience that brought me closer to death than I care to remember. The delivery that almost sent me home with out a baby. Surely the doctor that had been obnoxiously thorough the last 9 months... sending me for every test under the sun. Monitoring me so closely that I was sure baby September was going to come out glowing after all the sonograms I had.... was not going to let that happen. My high risk, sought after, top notch doctor, that I adored must have a plan that was more involved than telling me to keep my legs crossed and pray until his weekend off was over.

Nope. As it turns out that was the plan. So when I showed up at the hospital Sunday morning literally about to have September it should have been no surprise that no one knew about my blood disorder. No one knew how it should be treated. And my wonderful doctor... oh he was too busy at his sons soccer game to answer the phone. At 8 1/2 centimeters....  a point where the baby could practically stick his arm out and wave I was left on a gurney. Told to "hang tight" while they figured out what needed to be done. The hematologist on call... the one familiar with all blood disorders readily admitted she had no idea how to treat mine. Asked me if I remembered the name and dosage of the medicine I was given when I had my last c section because they would just go with that. Me! She asked me! The girl having contractions so strong that I could not see straight. I didn't even know my fucking name never mind the dosage of the medicine that was given three years ago. And why would I be a reliable source any way. I am not a doctor. Or a nurse. I am a mom of two... about to be three. Currently trying to keep a baby from sliding out my vagina. Are you really asking me?!

At more than 9 centimeters it was all figured out and I was heading in for my c section. Which I was really pissed about. To go through that many hours of labor with no medication or epidural and get a c section literally minutes before the baby could have been born naturally is just senseless torture if you ask me. Nonetheless that is how it happened. More importantly September arrived safely. And good God was he perfect?! And big! Just like at I had felt with his brothers... it was instalove.

Completely consumed in this new love I almost forgot that September needed an official name. Everyone thought we were just with holding what we had picked. Some even thought that we had actually named the baby September. Seark is a hard one to follow. I mean after a name like Seark you can't just go with Joe for the next one. Besides we can't leave Seark out there all alone in the strange name club. But honestly you can't out do Seark with out getting a little crazy. And I had already given Seark, Rylan for a middle name which was my next favorite boy name. So we were stumped. Until they informed us that we could not leave the hospital with out filling out the birth certificate. At that point we decided we could totally use Rylan again. So we did.

The sight, smell, feel of a newborn baby is intoxicating. To hold this tiny being so fresh from heaven there is no denying a higher being and the occurrence of modern day miracles. I spent the next few days just gazing at flawless little September. Breathing him in. Touching his warm, soft skin. Running my fingers through is baby fine hair. Wishing to freeze this time knowing how fast goes. I studied the sweet perfection of his face. Aware that it will change in the blink of an eye. And it did. Everyday. He changed and although subtle... noticeable. To me. Every night I would rock him to sleep and before I put him down for the night I'd trace the lines of his face so gently trying to etch them in memory. Afraid the he was changing so fast I would forget what he looked like on any particular night. Because that is what happens. I miss the days of being a blissfully ignorant first time mom that didn't know just how fast this time passes you by. Or that no matter how much you try not to you will forget.

And so a week turned into a month. And a month into two, then three and so on. My little newbie was growing at warp speed. Smiling and cooing at his brothers. A little personality was just beginning to form. The dark hair that he had a birth was long gone and little blonde fuzz was beginning to grow in its place. His dark grey eyes were beginning to turn blue. With each passing day my love grew. And not just for Rylan but for all my boys and the love that they have for each other.

Months four, five, and six were spent snuggling on the couch as snow fell out side. We celebrated Aidan's birthday, Christmas, small and big milestones. Smiles and coos were turning into belly laughs and babbling. And before I knew it my tiny babe was off to explore all on his own. He mastered crawling and then there was no stopping him. His baby soft knees started to feel like sandpaper as he made his way around on all fours. Until the day he discovered that he could pull himself up and cruise the furniture. Curious hands found their way into everything. And though his ambition out weighs his ability to balance his unsteady legs he never stop trying.

With seven months came a first tooth and a cranky teething baby. By the beginning of month eight three more teeth had made their way through those lumpy red gums for  a total of four. Then six and now eight. A baby with 8 teeth makes nursing feel like a danger.   All these new teeth also opened the door to a whole new tasty world of food we had previously not explored. With every new flavor Ry found a funny new face to express the message his taste buds were sending.

As pages of the calendar turned I started to feel the clock tick. September was fast approaching. Our days in the sun were numbered and so was the time until my Ry James turned one. My heart was starting to ache. This bitter sweet joy of yet another year that had filled me with so much more love than I knew I could hold had my heart so full the only thing it could do was grow. But growing pains are still pain. And a heart ache even if caused by joy still hurts. September is here and in more ways than one. So I baked a cake and stuck a candle in the middle. Sung happy birthday with sweet September on my lap and held back the tears of a mom not ready for next chapter just yet. But ready or not your growing as babies tend to do.

So my Ry I won't hold you back or slow you down. I will watch you grow and let you go while I cheer you on. I will hold my breath while you take your first unsteady steps and hold your hand whenever you need it. Your first words have yet to be said but I can not wait to hear them. I will fight for you and be in your corner no matter what while I fight back these tears because I know my heart isn't breaking... just growing. You are only one, you have only just begun... the best is yet to come! Happy Birthday my sweet boy!

I like having sex with you...

I am a big card person. I love cards and give them for all occasions. Except Christmas. The holiday that I love to design and order personalized cards for but never execute the actual addressing, stamping, and more importantly mailing of. So anyway the other day when someone did something nice for me I decided to go buy a little gift and a nice thank you card.

What sort of gift do you give to say thank you? Personally I like to be thanked with alcohol. Vodka or wine preferably. But choice of liquor is so individual what do you pick for someone that you don't know that well?

(via text messaging)
Hey what do you like to drink?
Water.
No I mean alcohol.
Unless you would like the gift of Poland Spring.
Oh LOL!
(followed by no response to the actual question)
Okay last chance... or don't complain when I stop by with a fancy gift bag containing only a bottle purified water.

A day later I was headed out to buy a bottle of water and a thank you card. I decided to go with Fiji water since it looks the most prestigious among the bottled waters. My kids gravitated towards the toys which happened to be right next to the cards. Which was a nice distraction for them and gave me a few minutes to actually read the cards before I picked one. Birthday. Graduation. Communion. Baptism. Wedding. Congratulations. Humor. Sympathy. Thinking of you. Ah ha.... Thank you. Thank you cards in general suck. They are so generic and boring. There among a sea of lame "your the best" cards was one fluorescent orange card sticking out like a sore thumb. I lifted it half was out of the holder to read "I like having sex with you". Which made me giggle. Really?! I like having sex with you? Intrigued no less I had to open it and read the rest.

My quiet giggle broke out into a full hysterical laugh by the end of this "greeting card". Which of course drew the attention of my children. They came scurrying over to see what was so funny. They go from sweet smiling minions to angry mob when they aren't getting their way... and they weren't because I wouldn't let them read the card. I did however buy it. I just couldn't pass up this literary gem. I contemplated giving it to my husband with a completely straight face just see his reaction.
Which then got me to thinking have I been married so long that a card like this seems nothing more than hilarious and ridiculous?! Are people actually exchanging cards like these?! And my last thought... I need to submit a resume to American Greeting. Maybe I have missed my calling as greeting card writer.

I had to pass this humor on. At night when my mom stopped over to go for a walk I came out with the I like having sex with you card in hand and told her she had to read it before went. After she had a good laugh I threw it in my mailbox thinking I would bring it back in after our walk. Only I forgot about it when I got home. The next day on my way back from picking Aidan up from school I ran into our mail man. With a very peculiar smile he said "there is something in your mail box not addressed to anyone". I just responded ok thanks and kept walking. The card never even crossing my mind. Until I opened the mail box and there it was... right on top. Which leads me to believe that our mail man now thinks one of the following... I am really good in bed... Like greeting card worthy sex. My husband is really good in bed. Or one of us is having an affair and just got outed by a poorly written greeting card. Whatever the case I will leave it a mystery for him as the truth could not be more dull!

So if you ever feel like you want to say what's on your mind with a card there is truly one for every occasion. I can already see some type of poorly acted hallmark commercial with a tiny accessory perhaps a condom to perfectly pair with your "I like having sex you card" when the trend finally catches on. Unless it already has a I am out of the loop.

p.s. I included a $50 gift card with the bottle of Fiji water and the sex card... I mean thank you card.

Humpy Humpy Dumpy and other great falls...

When I was about the age of my oldest son I fell off my bike. The details are fuzzy at best as it was 20+ years ago that it happened. I don't remember the moment of impact. Which is probably a good thing. I don't remember much after it either. I know the accident itself resulted in a fractured jaw and dental trauma. I do clearly remember the few seconds immediately before my face met the pavement. Those few seconds where time seems to slow down long enough for you to come to the realization... oh shit... this is gonna be bad. And it was. But as bad as it was for me I am now convinced of two things. One: smashing your face in some capacity is a childhood right of passage. Two: My accident was worse for my mother.

As the first full week of the new school year came to an end and the fall weather began to arrive I could not think of a better way to spend our home work free Friday than at my boys' favorite park... playing with their friends. So I got the kids in the car and headed out to the "barn park". A brand new park in town. The hazmat worthy cat urine filled sandbox that the children once loved to play in was finally removed and replaced with a new gazebo. The rusted fence that didn't quite close has been torn down and in it's place is a new wrought iron gate with a handle that locks into place so no parents have to chase small escapee's. The mulch loaded with cigarette butts that Seark used to love to snack on has been cleared away. The town even went the extra mile. Instead of just paving the park they installed that rubbery floor that feels sort of bouncy under your feet... you know the kind that will for sure lessen the impact of any fall. Well not quite any fall. Smack in the middle of this completely safe... I am sure "up to code" park is a giant statue of a stupid fucking pig! Oh my... she said stupid fucking pig?! Why such animosity towards such a cute statue of a pig with its piglet?! Because that pig was the only thing standing in the way of my clumsy child when he went running through the new gate... on to the impact absorbing bouncy floor.... when he tripped and fell face first with no time to brace himself.

From across the park I watched it happen. Aidan face plant right into the foot of that stupid fucking pig. I heard it. And as the words "oh god I hope that noise wasn't his face" came out of my mouth Aidan shot up off the floor as if there were springs in his feet. Letting out an awful cry. The cry any mom that has heard it before knows means it is serious. I held my breath and ran to him. Aidan spun around and... ALL. I. SAW. WAS. BLOOD. And lots of it. So much I had no idea where it was coming from and the only word in my head was.... FUCK! fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!!! Oh it was bad. Bad. Aidan was screaming "oh God I'm dying... I'm gonna die!" And all I could think was fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!! Luckily that's not what I said. I somehow got my shit together enough to get my game face on.... the face only a mom can pull off. The one completely disconnected from every thought in your head. Disconnected from anything else going on around you. The face that you look at your bleeding child with... the calm... cool.... collected face that tells them "your gonna be okay". And that is what I said over and over until Aidan really heard it.

Your gonna be okay.
Your gonna be okay.
Your gonna be okay.
Your
gonna
be
okay.
You hear me?
Your gonna be okay.

As much as I was saying those words with serious conviction I had no idea whether or not they were true but as long as Aidan believed me and they calmed him down... that was all that mattered. And they did.

By the time we arrived at the hospital Aidan was no longer freaking out. The blood had stopped gushing. He was still bleeding and clearly bruised and swollen but I was certain now that he would indeed be okay that I felt better about reassuring him of such. After being evaluated we found out that although he was okay underneath all that swelling was a broken nose and behind his absurdly fat lip was a chipped tooth and two loose ones.  When asked what happened Seark chimed in with "my brudda falled like humpy humpy dumpy... right Aidan? into da pig at da barn park".

Thank God unlike humpy humpy dumpy Aidan could be put back together again.

Don't be a bitch I am doing my best

Today was another day of just me and the kids. I am used to it just being us. There is only one place I really avoid taking the kids to. And that is any sort of formal dining establishment. By formal dining establishment I mean anything where they expect you to stay in your seat for the duration of the meal. I don't even really like to go out to eat when my husband can come with us. It is a project. Not one that I love. Rylan is in the "throw it on the floor" phase of his life. "It" being anything within reach of his tiny little wanting to smash it hands. Dining out with a 10 month old is somewhat like yoga... for beginners. I spend a lot of time sqautting, bending, and contorting into positions I am not sure that I can get out of just so we aren't the table that everyone stares at and whispers "look at her letting her baby trash the place". Not to mention the murderous glances from every bus boy. So for everyone's safety I keep dining out to a minimum... even when I have an extra pair of adult hands to help out.

If it were only Rylan that was completely uncooperative it wouldn't even be so bad. But there is also Seark. While he is not tossing breakable plates and smashing cheerios on the floor he still manages to make eating at a restaurant damn near impossible. Seark is a lavatory connoisseur. Meaning he likes to check out every bathroom. In every place we go to. Several times a night. More often if they have a good hand dryer. Aside from the false tinkle alarm he sets off regularly he has the urge  to play musical chairs. He always wants to start off next to me. Then he moves by Aidan which means my husband has to switch seats with him and plates. Once everyone is settled he decides he like the other seat better and wants to move back. He also can't sit on his butt. No he wants to be half way under the table. Or kneeling on the chair just so you have a heart attack every 30 seconds anticipating the fall you envision every time he leans backwards. 

I spend the night lunging for Seark and squatting to clean up Rylan's mess and I don't even get to eat a  hot meal because by the time the food comes Rylan can't sit anymore with out screeching like a wild cat that is under attack. 

Today Aidan begged to go to a restaurant that he loves down the shore. It is the last time we will be down there for this year so I said yes even though I knew it was a bad idea. We were seated immediately which is fantastic. Our waitress took 20 minutes to get to our table to take our order... whats the opposite of fantastic? Hell... 20 minutes when you are the only adult with three restless children is hell. Rylan is tossing things off the table left and right. Seark has to pee... or maybe he doesn't but who would risk a puddle on the floor?! Aidan is STARVING! I am doing my best to not have a panick attack and run out of there when this cute little waitress walks past and rolls her eyes as she asks if I could move Seark's chair in. 

We get our food and everyone is occupied for the moment. Seark drops is iced tea. Thank god for kid cups. It had a lid and didn't make a mess. I get up to pick up Seark's drink. Hand it to him. Aaaaand Rylan is covered in baby food! COVERED! And so is the floor. I forgot to move the jar when I got up. And here comes the cute little snotty waitress. She says "I'll get extra napkins so you can clean up that mess" and walks away. She comes back visibly annoyed and tosses the napkins on the table despite that I have my hand out to take them from her. 6 years ago when Aidan was Rylan's age I probably would have apologized for the mess and cleaned it as fast as I could. Most likely got teary eyed too. Not now. Not as I sit there with three kids doing my best! 

Do you have children? 

Nope.

Do you want them?

Eventually. (clearly annoyed and I don't even blame her I can't stand when people ask me things like that) 

Good. I hope some day you have them. And you take them out to eat. Just you and your kids. And they behave like animals. And it embarrasses you because you can't stop them. I hope you have a waitress with a rotten attitude and she makes you feel like shit with her eye rolling and huffing and puffing over things like baby food on the floor... and I hope you think of me. Don't be a bitch I'm doing my best! 

Let's just say me and the cute snotty little waitress didn't hug it out. 

Children can be terrible restaurant patrons that is no secret but it doesn't mean that you should never get to enjoy a meal that someone else is cooking. I have a come a long way since my first baby. I won't put things off because of the way they might behave. Instead I take them everywhere and do my best with damage control and try to remember that you can't please everyone. I did however please someone. There was a very happy 7 year old that had crab salad and cod for lunch... and that was worth it eye rolls and all.